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“How sweet of you, Atlanta.”
A thread of confusion meandered into the blank of my mind, Atlanta? Why had he called me that? This wasn’t making any sense. Things that didn’t make sense made me angry.
I jerked out of his grasp, ignoring the ripping of my hair. I glanced around, refocusing my mind. I’m trying to get the needle out of him, I remembered. I was starting to have second thoughts, though. Part of my mind was screaming to get out of there, find Melek and run, but there was that part that was pestering me to stay. Well, I rationalized, no use leaving the job unfinished.
I leaned towards him and grabbed the needle, my fingers shaking. I winced when I felt it move around inside of him. That was gross, I thought, flinching. The man chuckled, leaning over to see my work.
“After all this time, you want me to just leave?”
Something in his words made me realize something. Whoever I was talking to was not the person sitting in front of me. I briefly wondered if he was an evil spirit or something. I looked up at him, seeing his pain when I moved the needle, but his eyes… it was hard to describe. His eyes showed no pain, almost as if they were a completely separate being from the rest of his body; an infinite darkness absorbing all light. The real person seemed dead. No, I thought, not dead, just asleep.
I shook these thoughts away. This is no time for observations, I thought irately. I jerked the needle violently, horrified that it was several inches long, and still inside of him. I closed my eyes, composing myself. That was really gross. The huge needle dripping with the oozing blackness was almost too much.
“Atlanta-” his voice was calm, his hand rested softly on my hair. I ignored him and pulled again, watching five more inches slide out. This is more like a pole than a needle, I thought, exasperated. The black goop gathered itself and latched onto the end of the rod, making every noise to disgust me. I scowled, smacking the stuff away. As soon as I touched it, there was a most inhuman sound- a metal splitting, ice cracking, freezing your skin off kind of sound.
I suddenly found myself inches from the creature’s eyes. Silence, except our shuddering breath and the black junk squelching around us.
“What are you trying to do, free this poor soul? You know it’s too late.”
“You shouldn’t do that to people.”
He laughed at me. I couldn’t really blame him. Of all things I could have said, I thought, it had to be that. In books they always spouted some beautiful poem or song. How do they do that? I thought, kicking myself mentally.
"You know you can’t save him.” The man stated drolly, “Don’t fool yourself. You never were the type.”
I stared at him, watching him look around the room as if he owned it. Something snapped inside of me. Something buried deep inside, something I had kept to myself for years. He was right. I couldn’t do it.
I sat there, almost too angry to speak. It had always been that way. Every situation I was put in rendered me helpless. Stories, talking, boy problems, you name it. That was me. The damsel in distress. The stupid, innocent, naïve little girl who everyone said they liked, who had to protect her, because she couldn’t protect herself. A cynical smile appeared on my face.
“Never the type…” I grabbed the pole with both hands and jerked viciously. It made a strange grinding noise then sank back into the tender flesh. He screamed, that metallic, frozen banshee sound. For some reason, it made me feel good.
The creature flung me away, cradling the wound in his side. I crashed to the ground, the rod ripping across my hand. I hugged it to my chest, watching as he stood. He ripped the rod out of his side, breathing hard, the black goop creating a web around him. He looked at it for a moment, then glared at me.
“You know how much I have done for you.”
“No you haven’t.”
He advanced, lifting the spear. I stood, fire burning away all my fear. He thought he could kill me so easily. He was dead wrong.
The man stopped in front of me, spear raised. I circled away, keeping a good distance between us. His movements were clumsy, in some cases tripping on his own feet. This confirmed my thoughts of the speaker not owning the body.
“Why do you remain silent?” He shuddered, tears streaming down his face. “Why do you-” he broke off, looking lost. I darted forward, kneeing him in the chest and ramming my fist into his face. I didn’t take karate for nothing.
“I want you to shut up, that’s why.”
I grabbed the rod from his hand, as he fell to the ground coughing and curling around his wound. The black stuff became ecstatic, encircling me, trying different methods to get the pole. My hand remained firm, my eyes on the man. He glanced from the goop, to me, to the pole, his eyes becoming sad. It was the end for him. He reached towards me, but didn’t move; either pain or distance too great for him.
“Take me with you. Please-” He took a deep breath, raising his eyes. I stepped back, the spear raised.
“Tell me how to destroy this spear.”
The thing shuddered, jerking and making small noises. I resisted the urge to kick it.
“Don’t give me that. Tell me.”
I felt a pang a guilt for treating him like this, but there was nothing I could do. He was going to kill me, and I had to kill him first, especially if I wanted to save the other person.
The creature raised his head, his skin becoming colorless. He paused, a smile totally unrelated to the pain appearing on his face. I scowled, gripping the rod tighter. He was going to kill the host. Something inside my head told me that I had to save him. Of course, I thought. That thing will need another host.
“Oh, just a little Blood-”
Blood, Sweat, and Tears, a disenchantment spell. It had to be, because it was the only spell I knew of that had to do with blood.
I slashed the pointed end of the rod sharply across my forearm, swiping it across my blood. The creature screamed, flying to his feet.
“Impossible! No one can perform that spell!”
“I guess you were wrong about me, weren’t you?” I snapped, running the rod on my sweaty sides with lightning speed. The creature growled for a moment, then smiled.
“Oh well. I guess I’ll have to kill you first.”
I jumped away as he lunged, rubbing the rod carefully under my eye. The rod emitted a soft glow, reminding me of the countless times I had used this spell. I hope this will work, I thought. Mostly because the rod was sizzling on the smear of blood and sweat. That hadn’t happened before.
“Atlanta, you know you can‘t kill me.”
“Surprise.”
I whipped around, aiming the rod at his voice. The rod shattered in my hand, the pieces suspended in the air. The creature fell to his knees, head thrown back in some silent scream. The goop dropped limply to the ground, the swirls of life gone. I hardly noticed; the man’s eyes were changing color.
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